The Snow Kitten
by IttyBittyBirdie
Summary: Short little one-shot about the life of a sad little defeated kitten, struggling to survive against the odds. A little tragic and tearful.


**The Snow Kitten**

**(Inspired by a true story)**

...

For as long as she could remember, the little kitten had been alone. She had faint memories of a soft mothering body and the taste of warm milk on her tongue, but only faintly. If she had ever lived inside, she didn't remember it. She did remember that she was hungry, though, and that it was too cold for her short fur. But there was nothing she could do. All the bigger cats had eaten the garbage and two-leg handouts, and the strongest toms had established a territory in all the good hunting sites. The little kitten had no hope for food, and if she couldn't find food, she had no hope for survival, either.

Then, as if her wish had been granted, the little kittens' nose was suddenly attacked with the delicious smell of food. It was faint, but it was still there, waiting for her to eat it.

Following her nose, the small kitten made her way through the trees and the meadows and the hills, only to stop at the sight of a large wooden structure. It was a two-leg home. The food smell came from there.

The kitten slowly limped towards the home. On the porch of the house, there was a little bowl of water, and next to it, a second bowl of dry pellets. Food.

The tiny kitten mewed happily to herself and launched forward, gulping the pellets. They were dusty and crunchy like pebbles, but the kitten didn't care. She was much too hungry.

"Yrooowl!"

Startled, the kitten stepped back. A fluffy she-cat crawled out from under the porch and arched her back, fluffing her fur and baring her teeth threateningly. The she-cat didn't like other cats eating her food. Her owners put it out for her specifically. The food wasn't for sly intruders to steal.

The black she-cat growled again. She snarled and hissed and began to bat at the poor starving kitten with her claws. The little kitten mewed and cowered, eventually being forced to flee the comfort of the porch and run away from the angry she-cat chasing her.

Later, the kitten's tummy rumbled. She had barely gotten to eat any of the pellets before she was chased away. Now she was alone again, naturally.

Now snowflakes were falling quickly all around her. The bitter wind was cutting at her pelt and her paws had long since frozen from the cold. The kitten didn't know what to do. She was surrounded by blinding white, a flurry of snow and ice cascading down to cover the ground and swallow her whole. It was freezing. The kitten was hungry, too. Starving, even. And there was nobody who would help her. She would die like all the others.

Then, like a beam of sun parting through the clouds, a light suddenly alighted through the storm. There was a figure besides it, yelling, calling, and the kitten felt more than smelled that the lone body was warm. It was tempting, but the kitten was scared. She didn't want to have the comfort of food and then be chased away again like a fool, and would rather freeze. She wanted to keep what little pride she had left. So she stayed, freezing and hungry and tired, for as long as she could last.

It was only a little after the light faded and the two-leg's coaxing stopped that the kitten began to feel numb. She lied down, and was soon surrounded in a blanket of white, and the snow just kept falling, covering her so completely that she looked as if she were carved out of ice. Her whiskers were stiff, and her ears were torn and battered by the wind. Her face had pulled into a nasty grimace against the strain of the storm, and her body was tense with cold. Now, she was a snow kitten.

That night, the winter claimed her life. The kitten, like many others of her kind, had frozen or starved or contracted a disease that killed her, because of the lack of proper care and responsibility of the two-legs that had allowed her to be brought into the world. The kitten had died unnecessarily and for no other reason than that nobody had cared, and never would. She had been young, and innocent. Had she been two-leg, she would have been no older than a toddler. And if the supposed "smartest, most intelligent, most enhanced" race couldn't even care for their own young, and their own world, than chaos would be immediate. And the blood would be on the humans' hands.

So ask yourself this question the next time you see a stray cat or dog walking along the street, starving and freezing. Look into their eyes, and look into their soul. What do you see?

Now tell me, is that creature "just another stray"?

**Ugh! That took forever! :O It's based on a true-and recent-story. My friend's cat attacked this other starving cat that was hanging around and the cat was hurt and starving. I tried to feed it, but the cat was too afraid to get near enough to my house to get the food. It's winter here in Canada, too, and today I found the cat frozen and dead on my road. :( Poor little bugger. It was a cute little calico. Not even out of kittenhood.**

**Anyways, that story spawned me to write this, and...here it is! I usually let my emotions out in writing, so...I apologize if I made this you sad. I like to think I got the message across, though.**

**Now, I appreciate reviews and thoughts, but this story is more about sentiment then popularity. Reviews are welcomed, though.**

**XOXO**

**IttyBittyBirdie **


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